The Weight of His Decisions
by gpotter
Summary: And I can't stop you ... there you go again. Falling like a star, you're just sinking like a stone.


**A/N) **Wow, I really am on a roll. This was just something I wrote between yesterday and today that I'm not sure about . . . it's rather strange, but I like it. !WARNING! Do not read this unless you have already finished HBP, it contains major spoilers.****Enjoy, and reviews will be greatly appreciated. I'd like to know what everyone else thinks about this.

_**The Weight of His Decisions**_

**by: Amanda**

_Well I'll wait 'til you listen, I won't say a word_

_To follow your instincts will just never work_

_Silent, but strong, yeah I'm playing that card_

_And you're noticing nothing again_

_Now I'm laying on the table with everything you said_

_Keep it in mind the way that it felt_

_When the most I could do was to just blame myself_

_So we're talking forever and you almost feel better_

_But better's no excuse for tonight_

_You see it's never bad enough to just leave or give up_

_But it's never good enough to feel right_

_It will all catch up eventually,_

_Well it caught up and honestly_

_The weight of my decisions were impossible to hold . . . _

_ Taking Back Sunday, This Photograph is Proof_

Sometimes, Ginevra Weasley wanted to scream in frustration. From the time she was old enough to speak, she'd been told by her Mum that she would find her white knight and all would be well; she would find her very own happily ever after. Everything would work itself out . . . after all, love is the most important thing, is it not? Apparently not, since it was now taking a backseat to Voldemort.

The weeks they'd had together had been just — bliss. That was the only word that came to her mind. Of course, his reason for leaving her was perfectly logical. He didn't want her to get hurt. But couldn't he see? Him leaving . . . it hurt worse than death. Worse than anything Voldemort could have done to her.

Harry was doing exactly as the Dark Lord wanted him to. He was pushing away those closest to him, and in doing so, getting rid of the power he had over his opponent. How was he supposed to use love against _anybody_ if he didn't have anyone to love anymore? Sure, he loved Ron and Hermione. But he wasn't in love with either of them. Harry James Potter was in love with her, Ginevra Lynolea Weasley. And she had no idea how to help him realize just how much he needed that.

"Excuse me?" The youngest Weasley started at the meek voice. She turned from staring out her window to see who would be so rude as to interrupt her at this obviously _private_ moment. But she forgot the desire to yell at whoever it was when she saw . . . _herself_ standing in her doorway. But it wasn't her as she was. It was her at the age of five. The little girl's vibrant red hair was pulled into two tight pigtails at either side of her head and when she spoke, Ginny could see that her left front tooth was missing. And she was clutching a stuffed monkey — her stuffed monkey! Mr. Snitchy!

The sixteen year old Ginny rubbed her eyes and even shook her head slightly from side to side. Before she opened them, she told herself firmly, "You are not going to see your five year old self when you open your eyes, okay? Everything will be just as it was."

Tentatively opening one eye, and then the other, Ginny found no sight of the red-headed little girl. But then she turned around and there she was. Sitting on her bed, swinging her short legs back and forth without a care in the world.

"Okay, something is definitely wrong. Have I gone completely barmy? What are you doing here?"

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Little Ginny asked impatiently, rolling her eyes and making a clicking sound of annoyance. _Was I really that bratty as a five year old? Hmm, no wonder Fred and George tried to throw me into the lake a fair few times . . ._

"No, as a matter of fact, I haven't!" huffed Ginny. "Now will you kindly fill me in on what in the bloody hell you're doing here?"

"Oooooo! You said a bad word!" Little Ginny widened her already huge brown eyes, wagging her finger in a scolding manner.

"Oh, will you just tell me why you're here?" sighed Ginny, fed up with the girl.

"Fine. It's all about Harry Potter. Is it true that I get to kiss him in the future?" Little Ginny asked, an excited air about her.

"You won't grow up to kiss him if you don't explain what you have to do with Harry right this instant," Ginny threatened, taking a step closer to Little Ginny.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry! Well, it's simple, really. You can't let him leave you. Everything will just be _ruined_!" she cried, clutching Mr. Snitchy closer to her chest.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "And just how do you know about all of this?"

Little Ginny waved a tiny hand in the air. "I know everything. And I know that you have to keep Harry."

" "Keep" Harry? How am I supposed to keep him? You mean keep him from doing something?" Ginny asked. She pushed Little Ginny over and sat on her soft, feathery bed.

"You just have to keep him. Oh, please can I see a picture of him? I do so love Harry Potter. I'm going to marry him when I grow up!"

Ginny couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of jealously. But a second later she was rubbing her forehead, thinking about how stupid she was to be jealous of _herself_. Deciding that she may as well do what Little Ginny asked, she tossed her a picture of Harry she'd weaseled out of Colin. He was sitting by the lake, his elbow resting on a knee and his head in the palm of his hand. Ginny couldn't help but snort as the little girl gasped and nearly fainted at the sight. "Good luck with the whole marriage thing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Little Ginny looked up from the photograph. "I will marry him, you know."

"I'll say it again — good luck."

"Hmph." Little Ginny set the picture down, very lovingly, and looked up at the older version of herself. "Let's go."

"And what makes you think I'm going anywhere with _you_?"

"Because I said so, and right now, I'm the one with the Denitsed," Little Ginny explained slowly. "Honestly, who would have thought I'd grow up to be so stupid?"

Before Ginny could ask what "Denitsed" was, or get offended at having been called stupid, Little Ginny threw some pink, glittering powder in the air. The next time she opened her eyes, Ginny found herself in a small cupboard with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and spiders crawling all over the place. It was so tiny she had to crouch just so she wouldn't scrape her head on the ceiling.

"Where in the hel — heck are we?" Ginny asked. She didn't much fancy being berated for cursing again by a five year old.

"Look," Little Ginny said, pointing toward a corner of the cupboard. Squinting in the dim light, Ginny could just make out the figure of a small boy crouching there, playing idly with what seemed to be a few battered plastic toy horses.

"Merlin, that's — "

"Harry Potter," Little Ginny said matter-of-factly.

"I was going to say that," Ginny ground out through clenched teeth. She walked closer to the boy, whom she now knew was Harry. When she got close enough, she reached out to touch him. Before she could however, a sharp _SLAP!_ was heard. "OWWW!" whined Ginny, rubbing her hand. "What was that for?"

"Don't touch him. Just watch," Little Ginny demanded. "Well, watch and listen, actually."

"_I wish I had a horse like this one . . . so I could ride far away on it. Far away to find Mum and Dad. Maybe I could find somebody I can love . . . "_

"Are those his . . . _thoughts_ we're hearing?" Ginny asked after a moment's silence.

Little Ginny smiled. "Finally, you understand something!"

Ginny stuck her tongue out and continued listening. _"I wonder if I'll ever have anybody to love. Not likely if I'm shut up in this cupboard for the rest of my life. Perhaps I'll marry a spider . . . "_

Tears welled in Ginny's eyes, and she couldn't stand to listen anymore. "Can we get out of here?" For once, Little Ginny had no snide comment and just threw the powder in the air once more. They found themselves back in Ginny's room in an instant.

"Don't you see?" Little Ginny asked quietly, all trace of snottiness erased from her voice. "He's _always _wanted someone to love. He wants that more than he wants to be loved He wants to be the one to love."

"Well if he wants that so bad than why does he always push me away when things get hard?" Ginny burst out bitterly. "If he wants to love me than he should do it no matter what's going on. That's how I love him — whether he wants me to or not, through the good _and_ the bad times. Isn't that how things like this are supposed to work?"

"Things don't always work as they're supposed to. You know that. Well, I'm done here!" she announced suddenly.

"You're done? What are you "done" with?" Ginny asked in confusion. "All you've done was show me Harry's miserable past — I already knew about that."

Little Ginny started walking toward the door. "I showed you a lot more than that. You know what you should do." She reached the door, and turned back. "Oh — I forgot. Someone else is coming in a little while, okay? You might try being a bit nicer to him."

"Who's — ?" But before Ginny could finish her question, the little girl had disappeared right under her nose.

"I'm a nutter. I've finally lost it. That's the only possible explanation," Ginny muttered. Deciding that she'd better leave her room just in case Little Ginny decided to come back again and nick the Harry picture (she didn't like the way she'd been looking at it), Ginny made her way downstairs to the warm kitchen.

"Well if it isn't the little Weaselet herself! Just the girl I've been looking for."

_Oh, no. No no no no no no no._ _I am _not_ about to take a nice little excursion through the life and times of Harry Potter with . . . this!_

Ginny nearly turned and went right back up the stairs at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting calmly at her kitchen table, eating a biscuit. "Come now, Weasley, no need to run away!"

Curiosity got the better of her, and she closed her eyes. "Malfoy, let me just get one thing straight — you're not _real_ are you? I mean, why would you be here of all places if you were really you?"

"Of course I'm not real, Weasley. I mean, I'm technically me, but I'm somewhere else at the moment. Somewhere that I'm supposed to take you, come to think of it," Malfoy explained, looking as if he'd confused even himself.

Ginny watched him. He looked to be the age he was in the present, so she figured she wouldn't be taken into the past again, or the future. Logically, he'd be taking her somewhere in the present. But where? And what did Malfoy have to do with Harry?

"Watch it, Weasley — here comes the Denitsed!" While she'd been pondering the questions forming in her mind, Malfoy had come closer and now threw the pink powder over the two of them.

"Again with the bloody Dental - Sed!" Ginny complained, but her voice was lost as they were off again.

Before she even opened her eyes, Ginny could smell that they were outside. The air was acrid and stifling; it felt as if a battle had just occurred. When she opened her eyes, she could see that her assumptions had been correct. They stood in what appeared to be a large clearing surrounded by forest on three sides. The fourth led out into more open field.

"Where are we?" asked Ginny, coughing slightly. She brushed some pink powder off of her white polo shirt.

"My dear little Weaselby, we are — "

"Don't call me Weaselby! It's Ginny, or for Merlin's sake you can even call me Weasley. Just get it right, Malfoy!" Ginny snapped. "And what is _wrong_ with you? Since when have you called anybody "my dear"?"

Malfoy rolled his steel-grey eyes. "It's part of the job description."

Having gotten no answers from his reply, Ginny growled. "Come on, Malfoy. Tell me what the exact purpose of these visits are."

"First, I think we should go somewhere a bit more comfortable."

As soon as he said it, Ginny turned her head so she could get a better view of her surroundings. The grass underneath them was dimly lit by the sun, already half set. However, the dying light also illuminated the bodies strewn across the ground all around them. Ginny couldn't bring herself to look closer in an effort to see if she knew anyone.

"Malfoy . . . " Ginny croaked, her voice weak. "Please don't tell me that we're at Godric's Hollow." It had been her first suspicion as soon as she realized that fighting had taken place recently. Somehow, she just knew that Harry, Ron and Hermione were near, and that they'd been involved in the fray.

"Sorry, Weasley. That happens to be right where we are. And over there — " Malfoy pointed a few dozen feet away to a small cottage with some lonely grey smoke swirling from a chimney at the top. "Over there is where the Unstoppable Trio plus one are shacking up tonight. Shall we go and have a look?"

Ginny nodded in compliance, realizing that she would have no choice but to follow Malfoy. The ground crunched underneath her feet. Ginny looked down, half dreading that she would find bones or something equally gruesome. With a sigh of relief, she realized that all she was stepping on were some burnt leaves.

On the short walk over, Ginny decided to ask something that had been nagging at the corner of her mind ever since she'd first laid eyes on Malfoy. "Say, Malfoy . . . how come you're with those three? What are _you_ doing fighting on the Light Side?"

It could have been her imagination, but Ginny swore that Malfoy's cheeks colored to a light pink for a very brief moment. He didn't answer her until they were nearly at the cottage door. "I had to do something. After what I — what I almost did. I couldn't stand myself anymore," Malfoy said very quietly.

"Draco — " It was the first time he'd ever heard Ginny use his real name. "That's very brave of you." She accepted his explanation without any trace of a doubt. She knew, just _knew_ from the way he said it and the look in his eyes that he wasn't being spy for Voldemort. He genuinely wanted to contribute to the Dark Lord's defeat.

"Yeah, well . . . anyway, here we are," Malfoy quickly changed the subject, obviously uncomfortable. He led the way through the door, and Ginny found herself in a small room. There was a fire lit in a fireplace on the far wall, and four cots set up next to each other to Ginny's right. It was obviously a temporary place, just adequate for a night's rest. The walls were made of a rough grey stone, no windows to be seen.

Sitting in front of the fire was a lone figure. Three more were each laying on a cot. Ginny knew right away that it was Harry in front of the fire.

"Can I — can I touch him?" Ginny asked, trying not to let the tears come through in her voice.

"You shouldn't. Even though he can't see you, he might be able to sense you if your emotional attachment is strong enough. As I'm guessing the two of yours is."

This particular side of Malfoy was one that Ginny wasn't used to. He wasn't full of sarcastic remarks or blood heritage slurs. But he wasn't actually kind and caring, either. He was sort of neutral. "That'll be Ron, Hermione and you, then . . . right?" Ginny asked, indicating the cots near the wall.

"Yes."

"And the battle — you four fought in it. And you won."

"Correct again, Weasley."

Ginny walked experimentally closer to Harry. He didn't seem to notice any difference, but she didn't go any further. "Oh, Harry . . . is this what you left me for? To fight battles by yourself — to shut yourself in again?"

Even as she said the words, she heard Harry's voice clear as a bell. But it was in the same smoky, almost lilting tone that she'd heard with Little Ginny in the cupboard.

" _. . . it was a good fight today. Ron and Hermione are alive, so is Malfoy. Fancy that, I'm praising the fact that Malfoy's alive. Flowers . . . Ginny, I wonder how she's doing . . . I love her, I want her to know that I love her. If I die out here, who's left to tell her? To tell her exactly how I feel, tell her what an idiot I was for pushing her away. She is my "power the Dark Lord knows not" . . . _

"Harry, mate . . . what are you still doing awake? You haven't slept in days," a soft, sleepy voice mumbled from the cot nearest the wall. Ginny recognized it as her brother's.

"Just thinking, Ron. That's all." As Harry stood and made his way carefully toward the only empty cot, Ginny felt Malfoy grab her arm. Before she could hear any more of Harry's thoughts, she found herself back in the Burrow's kitchen standing next to the blonde teenager.

He was strangely silent. Ginny looked at him and he quickly averted his gaze toward the floor. It wasn't until she suddenly tasted salt that she reached up and realized her face was wet with tears. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Ginny asked, "So I guess your turn is over here . . . you're finished?"

"I'm finished, you could say. At least you've seen what you need to see," Malfoy answered.

"Speaking of that, why do I "need" to see these things? What am I supposed to do to change anything?"

"Ah, now that is a question best suited for your next visitor. I'm sure she'll be able to answer it and _any_ others you might have."

"Wait, the next one isn't — ?" With a mischievous smirk, Malfoy disappeared in the same fashion as Little Ginny. "I am getting sick and bloody tired of this! Whoever's next had better be the last one! I want to go to sleep!"

Reasoning that she had changed rooms before she found her next "visitor," Ginny decided to take a walk. Hopefully, she would find whoever was next, take a trip to find Harry and then get home and sink into her nice warm, fluffy bed . . .

Without realizing it, Ginny had ended up in Ron's room. Strange — _hmm, it can't be Ron, can it? _"Come out, come out wherever the bloody hell you are . . . " Ginny trailed off, looking all around the room. She even lifted the orange Chudley Cannons bedspread to look under his bed.

"Really, Ginny, why would I be waiting for you to discover me under the _bed_?"

"Ah, I should have known. Who else would be able to answer my question and "any others that I might have"?"

Ginny straightened up and turned back around. A woman who looked to be about twenty-five or twenty-six was sitting on Ron's desk, one leg crossed over the other. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a light blue blouse underneath a pair of black robes. Her light brown hair was tied back into a curly ponytail with her bangs pushed casually toward one side. She was at least nine years older than the girl Ginny had just seen in her last visit, but she could easily recognize her as Hermione.

"Finally," Ginny sighed. "I've been hoping you'd turn up sometime tonight. I don't know who else can better explain what's going on."

Hermione smiled and hopped off of the desk. She walked to Ginny and sat down with her on Ron's bed. "Ginny," she began calmly. "Have you ever heard of the Muggle Christmas tale "A Christmas Story"? You know, Scrooge, Tiny Tim and the lot?"

"From you, yeah. But only sort of," Ginny admitted. She vaguely recalled that some cranky old man named Scrooge had gotten a lesson that made him behave a bit nicer toward his friends and family — what was it that had changed his mind? Something about Christmas Past . . . _wait! _The past, the present, and the future had all been used to show Scrooge just how much he needed to change his life.

Hermione grinned as she saw Ginny's eyes light with understanding. "Little Ginny was the past, Malfoy the present and you're the future," she told Hermione.

"Exactly. And we've all been here for the same reason. Harry," Hermione explained further. "He really does need you, Gin. But if it hadn't been for the three of us, I don't think you would have realized just how much. He'll be destroyed if you're not with him. And I'm the last part left, so shall we be off?"

"Wait, don't tell me: you're bringing out the Denture - Sed, aren't you?" Ginny asked, already knowing the answer.

"Denitsed," Hermione corrected. "And yes."

The all too familiar pink powder was suddenly flung between them, causing Ginny to sneeze. When she opened her eyes, she was once again at the Burrow. The only difference was that she and Hermione were standing outside the back door, looking in. At once, Ginny could sense a change. There was nobody bustling about, no lights were on — there seemed to be no sign of life inside whatsoever.

"Exactly how far into the future have we gone?" Ginny asked warily. Surely it must be farther than nine or ten years if nobody was living at the Burrow anymore.

"Ten years," Hermione answered sadly.

Ginny looked at Hermione, shocked. Slowly, she made her way up the few stairs and into the kitchen. The same dead feeling permeated the inside of the Burrow. "Where's everyone gone? Did they move out?" Ginny asked. There was no point to it, however, as she already knew the answer. Nobody had moved out — they were dead.

"No, Ginny. They died."

Ginny shook her head. "No, they haven't! Why are you here to tell me this if everyone died? Wouldn't you have died as well?"

A frown creased Hermione's brow. "I'm here right now to serve a purpose, Ginny. I did die — but I needed to be here right now to help you, so I am."

"Don't say anything more. Please," Ginny begged, closing her eyes against this sudden well of unwanted information.

"Let's keep going, Ginny. There's more to see than a kitchen, you know." The sound of Hermione's voice brought Ginny out of her thoughts.

"What else have you got to torture me with, hmm? Perhaps you'd like to show me some more death and destruction?"

"Something to that effect," Hermione answered. "Follow me." Abruptly, she turned and left the Burrow's hollow kitchen. Ginny took a last look around and followed, glad to leave. She wasn't too keen on seeing her childhood home in ruins.

Ginny could see Hermione a few feet ahead of her, walking down the lane and onto the main road. She hurried to catch up to her, but as she did she realized that they were nowhere near the Burrow. Instead, they were walking along a dirt road surrounded by tall, dark trees on either side. "Hermione . . . where are we now?" Without answering, Hermione suddenly veered left, apparently walking straight into the forest. "Wait! Where are you going?"

Ginny sighed. She thought the best thing to do would be to follow Hermione, but she was a bit apprehensive about a hike through the forest. Merlin only knew what was lurking in there. But as she did in fact start along the forest trail, she found that a centaur, or even a werewolf would have been a better sight than what was before her. Strangely enough, the trees seemed to have disappeared and to her left and right were thousands upon thousands of grave markers. Some were more extravagant than others, but all of them bore the names of people Ginny had known and loved.

An icy blast of air seeped into Ginny's lungs and she drew in a sharp breath. She looked at some of the names as they continued walking. _Neville Longbottom. Luna Lovegood. Dean Thomas. Susan Bones. Hannah Abbott. Michael Corner._ _Seamus Finnigan. Dobby the House Elf. Winky the House Elf_.

Not wanting to see anymore, but knowing that much more was to come, Ginny watched the back of Hermione's head move further still. "Hermione, I want to stop! I want to go home! Please, Hermione!"

But the woman in front of her kept walking. It seemed like miles to Ginny, who couldn't tear her gaze from the graves beside her. And still, she knew . . . she just _knew_ that the worst was yet to come.

Her suspicions were confirmed as Hermione finally stopped. She turned around to face Ginny with a grim expression. "So you've seen what happens if you don't — do what you're supposed to."

"And what would that be, exactly?" Ginny asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"You can't possibly tell me that you don't already know," Hermione said, her eyes narrowed in disbelief. Before Ginny answered, however, Hermione moved to the left and she suddenly saw what they were standing in front of.

Three large structures were placed beside one another. They were all made of a shimmering white material, like marble and diamond combined. They were diamond shaped as well, with the largest one standing in the center. At once, Ginny knew whose graves these were. It was a sick compulsion, but Ginny leaned forward and peered at the names on each one. The one on the left read:

_**Hermione Elaena Granger**_

_**1986 - 2003**_

_**Truly the brightest witch of her age.**_

"That's — that's yours, Hermione," Ginny squeaked. "How could you . . . how did it — ?"

Hermione shook her head and simply indicated the other two structures. Ginny's eyes traveled to the one on the far right. A large lump formed in her throat, blocking the passage of oxygen. She felt light-headed as she read the blurred words in front of her.

_**Ronald Oliver Weasley**_

_**1986 - 2003**_

_**More than a sidekick — Potter's man, through and through.**_

"He fought more bravely than perhaps any of us. Taken down by a sneak attack from Lestrange. He never saw it coming . . . " Hermione shook her head solemnly.

"Oh, my God. I never thought — "

"The last one, Ginny. Read it," Hermione demanded.

She didn't want to. Why should she? She already knew exactly what would be inscribed on the cold, hard stone. It would read the death of her heart, as simple as that. It would be the hard evidence she needed. Reluctantly, Ginny let her eyes roam toward the middle structure.

_**Harry James Potter**_

_**1986 - 2003**_

_**Never will he be forgotten. May our silent savior rest in peace at last.**_

Ginny couldn't breathe. The breath in her seemed to stay in one place, not traveling to her lungs. In fact, everything about her was stationary. She couldn't feel the beat of her heart, she couldn't even hear herself think. Because there was nothing to think about — no reason to breathe, live, think anymore. The death of that reason was there before her eyes.

She couldn't let Harry come to this end so soon. Seventeen years old, and dead, along with his two best friends? And had he even defeated the Dark Lord?

"Hermione — was the Dark Lord defeated? Did Harry do it before he died?" Ginny asked suddenly, numbly.

"No. He was preoccupied with trying to save Ron and I. Voldemort got hold of his wand and he was killed," Hermione explained, again with the eerie lack of emotion that Malfoy had displayed when talking about things like this.

"So this was for nothing? All of these people died for _nothing_!"

"So it would seem."

"But — there must be something . . . this hasn't happened yet. I have to go back and change it!" Ginny exclaimed, a sudden rush of life coursing through her veins. "I have to go find Harry!"

Hermione smiled in a ghostly sort of way. "At last. I had hoped you'd come to your own conclusion sooner or later."

"But how can I . . . did all of this happen because he left me? Because I let him?" Ginny asked guiltily. Though she knew that she could prevent this graveyard from ever becoming filled with these honorable people, she still felt as though it was her fault that she was even _seeing_ it. That it was even a possibility.

"Let's go back to your time, shall we? I know you're anxious to do what you must," Hermione said soothingly. She brought the powder from an inside pocket of her robes, and the smell of death and sorrow faded away from under Ginny's nose. She opened her eyes, relieved to see that she and Hermione were back where they'd started, in Ron's room.

"How am I supposed to get him back? He's already in that place — in Godric's Hollow with you, Malfoy and Ron. At the battle. How am_ I_ to get there?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

Hermione just gave her a small smile and reached into her pocket. She took out a small vial of pink powder that Ginny knew to be Denitsed. "Ginny — what's "Denitsed" spelled backward?" She placed the vial on Ron's desk and disappeared with a wink.

Ginny tried for a few seconds to spell Denitsed backward in her head, but she finally became frustrated and grabbed a spare piece of parchment and a quill laying on the desk. She wrote at the top:

**D -E -N - I - T - S - E - D**

And then directly underneath it, she spelled it backward:

**D - E - S - T - I - N - E - D**

"Oh, very funny!" Ginny shouted at the empty air around her. She sighed in resignation and stared at the Destiny powder, as she had now dubbed it. She glared at it for a second, as if it had been the cause of the evening's calamity. Finally, she realized that glaring at a vial of powder would get her nowhere. "Guess I'm supposed to use this to get to Harry?" she wondered aloud.

The powder in the vial seemed to shimmer a little brighter, which Ginny took as an answer in the affirmative. "Well, if you say so . . . " She opened the vial and briefly considered how much she ought to use to get to Harry, but figured it was all or nothing and tossed the entire contents of the vial into the air.

She sneezed at the exact moment, and since it is physically impossible to sneeze with your eyes open, she closed them for a second. Once more, for what she knew was the last journey she'd take tonight, Ginny opened her eyes.

The small room she found herself in didn't surprise her in the least. She had known all along where she would end up at the night's end. But this visit was unlike the last in a very important way — the first time around she hadn't opened her eyes to four wands pointed directly at her.

"You guys!" Ginny shrieked, eyes wide with fear. "It's me! Put those away!"

"How are we supposed to know it's really you?" Ron demanded. His blue eyes were sparking with suspicion, but she could see the underlying happiness at seeing his baby sister.

Hermione, thinking on her feet, asked, "How did you describe the color of Harry's eyes in the Valentine you sent him your first year?"

Malfoy snickered and Ginny glared at him. She blushed and answered quickly, "Green as a fresh pickled toad."

"Yup, it's Ginny," Ron sighed, lowering his wand. The other three followed suit. "Now what in the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Funny, I've spent my entire night asking that question." They all looked perplexed at her answer so she said, "I need to talk to Harry. Now."

She looked at Harry for the first time since she'd arrived. He wasn't as skinny as she'd thought he would be, but his face was hard and cruel-looking. His green eyes were dark, but her stomach still twisted as she looked at him. All the feelings of the past year blazed inside of her. When he spoke, he set her on fire again. "I told you what has to be, Ginny."

"Yeah, well, there's something you should know," Ginny said. She grabbed his arm and led him toward the door. Harry looked back at Ron, Hermione and Malfoy and shrugged. Once they were outside, Ginny let go of him and kept walking. They were on a wide dirt path, and it reminded her uncomfortably of where Hermione had taken her.

"Ginny, what are you really doing here?" Harry asked. Ginny stopped walking and turned around to face him. A ray of moonlight had escaped through a chink in some trees and was playing across his face. It made him look so soft and vulnerable.

"I came to tell you something."

"So tell me already."

"No."

"What do you mean "no"?"

"I mean no! You're not allowed to do this, Harry! You're not going to push me away just because you don't want me to be hurt. I'll be hurt either way — and I'd rather be hurt with you than without you."

Harry closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. He had known this was going to happen eventually. Ginny just wasn't the type of person to take things as they were. She was going to fight against anything she was told, and that included Harry breaking up with her. "Ginny . . . I don't think this is the best time — "

"No, Harry, this is the perfect time. Do you know what I've seen tonight?"

Immediately on guard, Harry asked, "What? Was there an attack at the Burrow? Are your Mum and Dad okay? What about Bill?"

"Calm down, Harry," Ginny murmured. She took a step closer to him and was glad to see that he didn't move back. "There hasn't been any attacks . . . as far as I know, anyway. When you were little did you ever hear of "A Christmas Story"?"

Frowning, Harry said, "Yes. But what does that have to do with why you're here?"

"Let's just say I fully appreciate how old Mr. Scrooge felt while being hauled around by his past, present and future," Ginny said quietly.

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."

"I was visited by three people — they took me into your past, present and future to show me how much you need me," Ginny burst out, frustrated. "So I'm here now to change the future."

Harry's green eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you sure it wasn't some sort of trick of Voldemort's?"

"Why would Voldemort tell me to make the future _better_? People were dead where I went, Harry. _You_ were dead. I would think that he'd have wanted to keep it that way."

"And you're here to stop that from happening? Well, I can't say I didn't expect this sooner or later," Harry mumbled. "But I still can't put you in any danger."

Ginny rolled her eyes. She was standing directly in front of Harry now. "And I can't put you in any danger by letting you push me away."

Harry was trying _very_ hard to ignore how close Ginny was to him. He could smell her soft, flowery scent. It surrounded the two of them now and seemed to shut down part of Harry's brain. What she was saying made perfect sense all of a sudden. Hadn't he just thought it himself a few hours ago? She was his power that Voldemort could never possess, nor take. He loved her, she loved him and that was what was going to win this war.

"Are you understanding, Harry?" Ginny whispered.

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. "I understand perfectly."

And to show her just how perfectly he really _did_ understand everything, Harry grabbed Ginny and pulled her closer by the belt loop on her jeans. He smiled as she gasped, open-mouthed at the suddenness of his movement. And he took full advantage of that open mouth.

After a few seconds, Ginny pulled away. She looked at Harry, a smile gracing her features. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" he asked, still under the power of her scent and the taste of her lips.

"Spell Denitsed backward."


End file.
